


Kokopelli

by THA_THUMPP



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Because Josh wearing a beanie - with half his lip missing and a baby blue eye - is fucking dreamy, Curses, Fingerwise- Mike is missing Miney & Moe, Half Turned!Josh, Handicapped!Mike, Headcanon: Josh & Chris have BFF!Bracelets, M/M, Marking, Native Healers, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Reasoning Will Be Explained In A Later Chapter, Search for a Cure, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stalking, This Plot Is Pretty Fucked Up, Vivid Hallucinatory Dreams, Wendigo Psychosis, Wendigo!Josh, Western Doctors, mpreg!Chris (Until Dawn)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/THA_THUMPP/pseuds/THA_THUMPP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being left behind by Ashley in the tunnels, Chris is trapped underneath the burned down lodge. Eventually he stumbles down into the mines, where he's found by Josh and scratched. Mike, ever a sucker for the heroics, comes to Chris' rescue. Because nothing was mentioned in the Stranger's journal about scratches, they assume Chris is going to be all right... but they should never underestimate Mother Nature in the Native American culture. She's full of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This draft has been sitting on AO3 for the last week or so. While we were playing as Ashley we were given the choice to leave Chris behind in the tunnels, so we did. He sat down, we walked five steps, felt guilty as f^ck and ended up going back for him, but then it got us thinking: What would've happened to our dear, sweet Cochise if we went through with abandoning him? Hmmm, indeed. (We were too deeply in love with him to even try and see. Hardy har.) Please enjoy!

At dawn, the spirit of the Makkapitew was once again released upon the mountain. It fled from the burning lodge with a loud screech, leaving behind its destroyed body within the aftermath of the explosion to seek shelter in the darkness of the mines. In a matter of seconds it was out of sight, squirreling among a forest of trees and hurrying through the distant snow beds on the back of a cold wind.

Weakened by fire, the lodge finally gave up its stability and collapsed to the ground. Heaps of once-strong wood fell left and right, warming the air and feeding the frenzy of flames, which were beginning to burn as bright as the rising sun and dance in an assortment of pops and sizzles as if possessed by some form of Native American mysticism.

Not far from the scene, Mike stirred from where he was thrown during the explosion with a hacking cough.

“Everyone okay!” He yelled out over the ambiance of destruction as he pulled himself to his feet. “Sam!” His voice cracked on her name. He could have sworn she was right behind him, but over the smoldering smoke and deafening rotor blades of the rescue helicopter overhead he couldn’t see or hear much of anything. “SAM--”

“Right here! I’m… I’m alright!” Sam waved from her position among the snow before rising to a stand as well. “Upsy-daisy… There we go. Yup.” She grunted, encouraged by her own baby talk. “Good. Good.”

Fully upright and hopping in place, she favored the knee she had busted while running from the Psycho—or rather, Josh. Without the help of adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was beginning to feel the pain of every hardship she had to endure throughout the night and there were a lot to account for. Physically and emotionally. But accepting all of that would come later.

“Oh, thank FUCK!” Mike blurted at the sight of her, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he moved to be by her side. “Girl, those were some fucking AWESOME Pyrotechnics!” He laughed in triumph.

“I just flicked a switch, Mike.” Sam said as she brushed at the sediments of snow and ash speckling the thighs of her sweatpants, attempting modesty. “All credit goes to the stage director.” She smiled in his direction, admiring how he showed no shame in accepting the praise. “How’s the hand, by the way?” She asked, remembering how he had to break the bulb barehanded.

“Just a couple shards of glass.” Mike wiggled his fingers in her face. Unlike his left hand, this one still had all five digits. “I’ll live… You?”

Sam snorted. Mike’s optimism was something else, deserving him a playful punch in the shoulder. “One day at a time, tiger. Though I won’t be rock climbing any time soon.”

“Had enough of that for one night?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Try a lifetime--”

_“Oh my god! No, NO! Chris! …SHIT! Chris! CHRIS!!”_

Together, Sam and Mike glanced left to find Ashley pacing in front of the burning lodge, hands waving frantically by her head. She was wearing an expression of worry as she peered out over the wreckage, eyes moving in unison with her steps as though she was trying to search for something among the rubble or assess the damage done. Except, that looked pretty straightforward.

No one could have survived that.

“Ash!” Sam exclaimed, mirroring her friend’s unease. “What’s wrong?”

“Chris… I… WE--FUCK!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Rewind for me.” Mike raised a brow. The last time all four of them were together was in the safe room, and that was roughly an hour ago. “What about Chris? I thought… Wasn’t he with you guys?”

“I… I left him. We both did. Remember, Sam? SAM?” Ashley turned her head away in shame, features screwing up in sorrow and regret. “Oh, Chris!”

Sam fluttered her eyes shut. “Shit.” She grit through her teeth.

“Hello? Can someone PLEASE fill me in here?” Mike shrugged. “I am completely lost.”

“What if something got him? Oh god, Sam. What if one of those THINGS got him?! It’ll be our fault. It IS our fault! We left him to DIE--”

“Where did you leave him? Ash. Ashley!” Mike gripped at Ashley’s shoulders, hoping to shake her from her rambling. “Where did you leave him? Huh? Where.” He punctuated.

“I-In the tunnels. The, the ones under the lodge!” She sobbed.

“No. No, not happening. Nope. I already saw Josh get taken. No way I’m losing another friend.” Mike moved to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sam shrugged tiredly.

“Where else? Back to the mines!” Mike retorted, nose glued in a downward search for a loose piece of wood to carry. In favor of the debris around, it didn’t take him long to find one, and he made sure that the tip had something flammable on it before lighting it using the flames of the lodge.

He was going full caveman.

“You don’t even know if you’ll find him.” Sam supposed. “The Flamethrower guy. He said A LOT can happen quickly on this mountain. You left Josh for like, what, five minutes?” She reminded. Though there was no blame in her voice, only sadness. “Chris, he’s been gone way longer than that. It’s probably already too late… for him.”

At Sam’s words, Ashley’s crying grew louder.

“No. Nah-AH.” Mike shook his head. “I’m not losing anyone else tonight.” Not if he could help it.

“Mike--”

“I’m going back, Sam. You can’t stop me.”

“How?” Ashley asked as she collected herself, just barely. “HOW will you get to him? The only entrance we know of is buried beneath all of THAT!” She pointed towards the demolition of the lodge.

“The Sanatorium.” Mike snapped his fingers as the thought hit him. “I, I I-I can get back down through there, unlock the door and, and yeah. That’s what I’ll do. Doesn’t matter if I blew up the other entryway, I can always get around. Yeah… Alright!”

“Mike!” Sam yelled over the landing helicopter as it stirred up the surrounding snow like dust.

“Don’t wait for me!” Mike called back with a wave, too impatient to stick around and watch as his friends were secured by the rescue team. “If I find Chris, I’ll see you soon! If I don’t… Uhh.” He didn’t want to think about that just yet.

ƸӜƷ


	2. Isolation

Alone, Josh wept. Not too long ago he had risen from the brink of oblivion only to find himself in his own company, abandoned in isolation once more. It seemed that Hannah, after nearly crushing his head in within the collected water of the cave system, had enough consciousness to return him to where Mike and Sam had first attempted to rescue him. After a possessive shriek, she had tossed him into a corner like he was a ragdoll before scurrying away to continue the hunt for his friends. The last image he had embedded in his mind’s eye before falling into a restless slumber had been of her monstrous form scaling the ravine walls until she was no longer a spectacle but a presence.

Josh shivered. He wiped any snot from his nose onto the sleeve of his shirt as he looked up towards the opening of the cave and the morning sky above. If he focused hard enough he could still feel Hannah within the backdrop of the adjacent shadows and hear her horrid breathing as loud as that ‘explosion’ that had sounded throughout the air earlier, and that scared him. He didn’t know whether his experiences were being conjured from his disillusioned imagination again, if his survival was a stroke of luck or if it was a purposeful act of revenge, like some sort of comeuppance for not trying hard enough to look for her—

Oh, god. Was anyone going to look for _him_?

Josh darted his eyes around the cave, losing himself in the vast loneliness of it and his situation. After a minute he stood stiffly, every inch of his clothes feeling weighted by frozen water.

“Why are you doing this?!” He cried into the darkness around, stalking left then right. “Why did you leave me here?! Hannah!! HANNAH?!”

Ears strained, a silence met them. It was an eerie stillness, oppressive, and the empty ring of it drove him further and further into madness. Nothing became something, the water drops and cavernous murmurs her giggling. Hannah’s giggling. But not just hers, Beth’s too. Beth was there, with her sister, and their laughs were echoing around him now, circling him like summoned ghosts.

“I didn’t know! I DIDN’T KNOW, OKAY?! I… I didn’t… I didn’t KNOW! I… I--” Josh mumbled mindlessly as he gripped at his hair and hunched over, eyes widening with craziness and fear.

In the distance, a Wendigo scuttled from one neighboring tunnel to the next. The pitter patter of feet gave its position away, prompting Josh to glance up at any form of ceiling he could and whimper himself into a corner. But he didn’t get far. Due to the cruel temperatures of winter, his feet felt like they were attached to ice cubes the size of sneakers, the leggings of his blue overalls brittle like glass. He could barely sense his toes moving around within his soaked socks from the water he had waded through behind Mike.

“Hannah.” Josh said, under the blind impression that the Wendigo was her. “Come… Come back. Hannah! Come back! Oh, GOD. Don’t leave me here! Please!!”

Driven by fear, Josh bolted. He tried to climb up the steep cliff, towards the single ray of sunlight beating down on him from above. He grunted, panted, and whined, though reached no height. He merely flipped and flopped in the face of the crag because of the sharp incline of the rocks and the formed ice, paying no heed to the half-broken sign of ‘DANGER CLIFF EDGE’ that he was trampling over in his confusion.

“COME BACK!” He cried. “P-PLEASE! HANNAH--”

Suddenly, there came a whisper. It was low, the voice behind it soothing and different than the one he had been hearing inside his head… It was _real_.

“H-Hello?” Josh turned around, mouth hanging open in dread. He almost expected to see the deformed shells of his sisters crawling out of the darkness again, but there wasn’t anything there.

At the false alarm relief was quick to settle, but that was before Josh heard something fall over. He assumed it was a rotten piece of plank wood finally giving way from its early mining days, but when he spun again—still nothing. The third time was always a charm, and when the noise happened yet again he turned around to finally look upon _it_ : an opaque cloud of cadmium yellow hovering right before his very eyes.

“OH!” Josh exclaimed in a gasp. He jumped back when noticing the form within the cloud, the big teeth and intense eyes that peered into his soul. Up close, he could perceive lines shimmering and streaming through the transparent entity, like the veins on the backs of butterfly wings, so pretty in color. “Oh…”

This thing, it wasn’t harmful. He could see that. More so, it looked like it wanted to help him, to guide him, akin to the role of a spirit animal or totem pole, the ones scattered around the mountain like warnings; left by the natives who had once claimed to inhabit it.

Hesitatingly, Josh reached out. His hand went through the screen of smoke on contact. It was cold to the touch, feeling no different than the ice in the air. He swiped again, intrigued. This time the cloud shimmered with the movement, almost like a projection. He laughed without conviction, then swiped for a third time like he was trying to catch a firefly. Or…

“I, I am a beautiful butterfly.” Josh uttered in a silly voice. “And butterflies, they, they eat leaves. Don’t they? Yeah. Yeah, you eat leaves.” He stopped talking to take in the gaze of the hungry, empty eyes. They almost seemed pulling, like they were drawing him in. “No. No no, no. NO!” He scolded himself before pointing at the cloud, caught up in his own fantasy. “You can’t eat. You can’t eat because it’s winter. There, there are no leaves on the trees. Caribou, though.” He smiled and again out came that rugged accent. “You ever try venison? Hey--”

The cadmium spirit shimmered away and reappeared next to the door Mike and Sam had used to reach him earlier on.

Josh dithered where he was left. Beyond the boards he knew there were bodies hanging like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Jessica, Emily, Matt, and some other person he didn’t recognize. He didn’t mean for them to die. _No one_ was supposed to die. It was just supposed to be a good movie. He was going to post it, let it go viral, maybe even get recognition for it like his Dad did. That was all he ever wanted.

_“Josh?”_

“Wha--” Josh choked, nearly staggered. That voice. It was so kind, so quiet, so panicked, so afraid. So…

_“Josh? Josh, where are you? I-I can’t see you. My glasses… It’s SO cold, Josh.”_

A year had gone by, but he could never forget _her_ voice. The one inside his head during his, as Mike had considerately called it, ‘full mental jacket’ episode had been hers as well but at the same time he knew that it wasn’t. This one, though, the one calling out to him now. _This_ was—

“Hannah? HANNAH?!” Josh yelled. He was gone, so, so gone, and before he knew it his feet where moving on their own. He ran ahead. He wouldn’t leave her, not this time, and pushed past the spirit and through the rickety door on the foolish hope of finding her waiting for him on the other side.

But once there, he froze. The sight of his friends’ bodies hanging from the rafters like dummies drove him back to reality, if only for a split second. He gaped in horror. The presence of the dead was incredible. It made him feel vulnerable in the face of it, judged, and guilty. He tried not to stare at anyone in particular, but the company was overpowering, forcing him to gaze upward and his sanity to break even further.

Josh shook his head violently. “No. Nonono.” He murmured as he hurried through the scene, making his way towards the bank of land overseen by the water wheel while using denial as his crutch. “This’s all a bad dream. Just a really, really bad dream. You’ll wake up, Josh. You’ll wake up and, and see everyone smiling down at you like Charlie’s angels. And then we, we’ll laugh everything off and have breakfast together like we used to--pizza for breakfast! And, and video games for lunch! No parents to tell us no, ‘cause we are fucking legal to do whatever the hell we please!” He made a cheering motion towards the scattered heads, trying to distract himself and find an audience with them.

For the most part, that failed miserably. Breakfast, though? Now there was a thought. He had been so preoccupied with getting his prank in order for the last two days that he forgot to feed himself, yesterday and this morning. God, was he starving now.

As if sensing this, the cadmium cloud rematerialized behind him.

 _“You have to eat, Josh. Eat or you’ll DIE. Eat and join ME, Josh. We’re family, aren’t we? What are we to you, Josh? Beth and I, we became one… Join us, Josh. Make us whole again.”_ Hannah’s voice said.

Overtaken by a moment of absent sanity and a wild hunger, Josh fell to his knees. Slowly, he reached for Jessica’s head. His fingers twitched above the soft skin of her face, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it up. It was hard to because he knew her. He could still hear her annoying voice in his head and picture that insecure smile of hers behind all that makeup and for-show sexiness. The same went for Emily’s. He could still see the bitchiness on her twisted face, even with her eyes gorged out, and the sight of her turned him off. It made him sick. As for Matt, Josh felt bad for him. Matt was nothing but honest and it puzzled him to no end how or why the two ever hooked up together in the first place.

The old man, however, Josh felt no relation to.

The man’s head sat there like temptation, a serving of nourishment, and the longer Josh stared the hungrier he became. Pretty soon the decaying and rotting flesh smelled like bacon, weak but still detectable, and Josh’s mind started playing tricks on him again. He saw the pigs he had killed and gutted for this ‘game’ of his. They rolled around him as heads, squealing with glee and shapeshifting between true form and bacon strips. It was an overwhelming yet comforting sight, and after a final growl from his stomach Josh picked up the old man’s head.

He ogled it curiously.

_“Eat, Josh. Eat and be strong. Let us SAVE you.”_

Josh could feel the presence of his sisters’ arms wrapping around his neck as he swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in consideration. He had eaten worse, he thought, with Chris when they dared each other to go ‘full survivor’ one summer during middle school and dig for worms. Worms tasted like perfume. Humans tasted like… chicken? Yeah, sure. They had to, he convinced himself before gradually lifting the old man’s head and taking a bite out of the nose. Then another. And another, ingesting one mouthful after the other.

Behind him, the cadmium cloud hovering around his shoulders in a hugging fashion started to sink into his skin, piece by piece. If it had human attributes, its lips would be smiling cruelly.

_“Make us whole again.”_

ƸӜƷ


	3. Abandonment

From within the stretch of tunnel that ran from the lodge to the Sanatorium, Chris stirred. With a small groan, he lifted his chin from his chest where it had fallen in exhaustion, also eventual sleep. For a split second, he almost didn’t remember where he was as he wiggled a knuckle behind his glasses to rub at his eyes, but when that realization sank in, and it sank quick, he immediately stiffened.

“Oh, shit--” Chris scooted himself straighter against the wall’s edge where he sat, almost startled by the crisp ruffling of his own parka as he moved. “Ash?” He barely managed to call out.

The last thing he remembered was telling her to go on ahead without him and hearing her footsteps fade around the corner of the tunnel. He had passed out soon after.

“Ashley?” Chris called again, then coughed. 

The faint smell of smoke was hovering in the air like years of dust. He couldn’t name the source, but definitely knew it wasn’t there before he fell asleep, and tried to look around for any sort of visual clues that could help fill in what he might have missed. Though just as he began to get a little more animated where he sat—leaning away from the wall with the intent of glancing back the way he had come with Ashley and Sam—he winced. One of his eyes closed tightly in pain and he stilled any further movement, resting a hand over his chest with grit teeth.

Aside from the sprained ankle he knew he had, it felt like he had a couple bruised ribs as well. To be honest, in consideration of the shotgun’s kickback and the way he landed after jumping from that small hill near the end of his ‘close encounter of the first Wendigo’ act, it would have made sense if he did. But of course, right now it was only a feeling. He wouldn’t really know if that was the case until examined by some sort of professional doctor which, might he remind himself, he was nowhere near at the moment. So to be safe, he figured he would just assume the worst and treat his pain accordingly.

Chris took a deep breath. This was going to hurt like a, “--bitch.” He cursed out loud as he forced himself up, feeling every muscle in his body that supplied movement scream at him from start to finish. “Sonofabitch.”

In one exhale, all the air inside Chris’ lungs rushed over his lips and from his mouth. Deep down there was a part of him that almost regretted suggesting the idea of staying behind. Not only was it thoughtless, it was also dishonest. Because, really. He wasn’t being completely in touch with his feelings when he told Ashley to go on without him. He had only said what he did because he didn’t want to slow neither her nor Sam down from warning Mike about… well, whatever the hell the girls had read in the old man’s journal.

To be fair, if asked, Chris couldn’t quote any of what Ashley and Sam had mumbled between themselves. Between reclaiming whatever breath he had lost during his rapid dash from the shed to the lodge and processing the Stranger’s death over and over in his head like a looped gif, he didn’t have any time to take an interest in anything else.

“Should have reeeally paid more attention, Christopher.” Chris scolded himself as he firmed his stance, keeping one hand pressed against his ribs and the other planted on the wall to help steady his balance.

That worked out as well as he supposed it would, limiting him to a hunch and causing him to become dependent on using support, but he could argue that it was better than falling flat on his face and leaving him groveling for the next curious Wendigo. Fuck. Just the thought about how many had probably passed him while he was out cold gave him cold sweat, and he shivered. Then jumped when he heard the very obscure noise of something falling over from up ahead, around the corner he was at but five-feet from turning.

Unexpectedly, his brain went straight for innocence.

“Ash?” Chris guessed, though when the noise sounded again his voice wasn’t as strong. “S… Sam?” He stared intently at the edge of the wall, waiting to see movement. After a few seconds he thought he saw a shadow shimmer by, but at the same time he wasn’t sure and limped two-feet forward to get a closer look before, “WHA--” Chris nearly shrieked like a little girl when a large rat rounded the corner in a full run, somehow able to disappear into one of the holes in the wall as fast as it had bounded into sight. “Fuck. Fuckety-fuck. Oh, god DAMN.”

Chris squirmed, hunching where he stood and very close to breathless. Anything other than a rodent and he would have just suffered a mini heart attack on the spot—that he was sure of, and after a minute he rummaged around in his pockets to pull out his iPhone, thinking he could use the flashlight feature to drive away any other surprises ahead. He was almost disappointed with himself that he didn’t think to take it out sooner, especially since he was practically glued to it day in and day out back home, always checking updates and browsing through apps for the latest news. If only he could reconnect with the world right here and now, then _Google Maps_ could be pointing him towards the closest route out of Dodge.

Yeah. Like life was ever that easy, Chris thought as he worked up the courage to finally turn the corner and continue further down the tunnel, all the way until he reached a pair of double doors, the only exit, which wouldn’t budge.

It looked like someone had locked it from the other side.

Great. Chris favored his left ankle in a hop as he turned around to reface the long passage he had just trekked. He was moments away from thinking about doubling back to the lodge and searching for another way to the Sanatorium, one he knew wasn’t there, before he felt a remote draft touch the areas of his skin left uncovered by his parka. Curious, he looked down and saw a manhole with a crowbar beside it. He didn’t know how he could have overlooked it as he was hobbling up to the doors, or how he didn’t trip over it in doing so, but something in his gut told him that Ashley and Sam had gone down there. That, and lifting the lid had been a team effort for the girls, meaning it was going to be a one-man job for him.

“…Fuck my life.” Chris murmured softly before putting his iPhone in his mouth and making a reach for the crowbar.

Due to the stiffness of his body he had to swipe for it twice, but once it was firmly in his grasp he wasted no time in wedging it into the grated lid, prying the damn thing up and to the side, and clambering down the manhole as quickly and safely as his strength allowed. By the end of his descent, his muscles hated him even more, but he was trying to make up for lost time here. After all, he didn’t really have a clue on how long he had actually been out. When first stirring, it felt like he had only closed his eyes for a few minutes.

In reality, it could have been hours.

That thought was as dark as the second tunnel Chris found himself standing in, even with his iPhone as his source of light again. He almost didn’t want to think on it any harder the farther he hobbled along, except that became impossible when he came to a fork in the passage and found himself wondering which way Ashley and Sam had taken: straight or left. If he hadn’t stayed behind his brain could have been spared the guessing game, he knew. But it was too late to do anything about it now. It was up to him to catch up however he could and while he couldn’t speak for the girls, he had seen one too many B-rated horror movies to know better than to stray from the main path. So…

Straight it was, Chris decided through very little convincing. Though, rather suddenly, a series of muffled sobs echoing from down the left path had him considering otherwise. Hearing them, he hesitated.

“H-Hello?” He called into the darkness. “Who’s there? A-Ash? Sam?” He thought a little harder. Jessica was dead. And no one had seen Matt or Emily since they were told of Josh’s supposed ‘murder by the Psycho,’ which only left… “Mike--”

 _“Buddy.”_ A familiar voice said, whispering the word like an airstream.

Chris felt chilled to the marrow of his bones, a dread colder than the ice beneath his feet. “Josh? Josh, is that you? …JOSH?!” He panicked. Perhaps the Wendigo hadn’t gotten to Josh like the old man had originally predicted. And if Josh was down here, trapped, Chris didn’t want to abandon him again—not like he did in the shed.

 _“Cochise, buddy.”_ The voice said again and there was no doubt about it.

It was Josh. It _had_ to be Josh because Chris could even imagine his best friend’s wounded smile behind the spoken nickname, and blinded by that impression Chris lifted his iPhone towards the left path.

He had hit Josh twice tonight, once with his fist as a sort of payback for giving Ashley a black-eye and the other with a fucking stick because he thought Mike needed the protection, and he didn’t want to live with that guilt on his conscience. He needed to rescue Josh, to find him and tell him that he was sorry and, hell, maybe even carry him off the mountain in the same fashion Josh had done to him that one time he had missed a rock on the climbing wall at school and fell about eight-feet down, twisting his wrist.

It was only a wrist. It had nothing to do with his ability to walk, yet all the way to the nurses’ station Josh had insisted to carry him, all the while ignoring contrived bellyaches about ‘not being a damsel in distress.’ Chris could remember the look on Josh’s face. It was so natural, so happy… He had loved every minute of it.

“JOSH!” Chris yelled from the crest of the left path, shining the light of his iPhone into the darkness below.

There had to be a six-foot drop between the outcrop and the bottom, or at least that was his guess. It was hard to tell from where he was, but either way he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He was determined to investigate no matter what the height and made sure to keep his iPhone close, clenched tightly in one hand, before easing onto his butt, holding his breath, and basically letting himself drop the distance.

Needless to say, it definitely wasn’t his most graceful move, and as soon as the soles of his shoes touched solid ground he was verbalizing his instability in a long utterance of “ow, owowow” and falling forward, down onto his hands. His iPhone was lost as a result, slipping from his grasp and clattering a ways up ahead.

“Damn it…” Chris whispered as he quickly rose back into a stand, using his knees for support.

Around him, the atmosphere felt different than the tunnel he had descended from. It was darker, more sodden than cold, and as he moved to retrieve his iPhone he noticed that the setting looked more cave-like in appearance, especially with how the surrounding rocks were jutting out from the ceiling and the floor like icicles. A little ways down the passage there weren’t as many as the path opened up, but there was a trapdoor. In the middle of the area.

Conspicuous much?

If Chris was in his right mind, then yes, he would have thought so. Though since he wasn’t, nope. For all he knew it was where his best friend was trapped and what he needed to get open.

“Josh?” Chris could feel his heart pounding like war drums in his ears as he knelt in front of the trapdoor. “You down there?” He rapped on the wood like how they used to do to the bedroom walls when they were younger, when Josh’s dad would separate them during sleepovers because they made too much racket together. What was it again? Twice for yes, nothing for no—

There came two knocks. Well… two of something, rather. Really, they could have been anything, but to Chris and his optimistic expectation, they were Josh. Josh was signaling him back, and Chris almost fell over in happiness.

“Yeah, Josh.” He laughed. “Hey, man. I’m, I’m gonna get you out, right now, like NOW--so just, don’t uh… don’t jump out at me or anything, okay?” His hands shook almost violently as he proceeded to unbolt the latch.

The wood of the trapdoor groaned heavily as it was pulled up then pushed back, the final clunk of it folding over backwards as loud as hell.

Chris cringed. Something definitely heard that.

“Josh?” He rushed a whisper into the darkness beyond the trapdoor, hardly able to see a thing. “Josh!” He raised his voice a little louder when there wasn’t a reply, not ready to give up. “Come on, man.” One of his legs started jittering nervously. “This isn’t the time for hide and seek. I just heard you… Where are you? JOSH?!” He chanced a yell, and very faintly there came a response.

Except, this time it wasn’t a knock or whatever it had been before. It was the crumbling of rocks and… and what sounded like a screech—a very earsplitting and animalistic screech, that right-behind-you kind of screech—and sure enough, when Chris swiveled around on his knees there it was on the ceiling.

A Wendigo.

It was staring right at him, sitting like a fly on the wall. Eyes beady, neck twisty, fangs glossy. The only relation he saw to a toad was how it used all four of its legs to hop. Everything else just screamed fucking alien, and when it lunged, Chris moved.

All it took was one step back and… after that, everything faded to black.

ƸӜƷ


	4. Lost-And-Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have our sincerest apologies that it's taken us so long to update this story! We've been a bit busier than usual - our priorities seemingly everywhere yet nowhere. Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to post... Please enjoy!

When Chris came to the first thing he did was feel above his shoulders with slow and clumsy fingers. His hands almost didn’t want to work, but as he made them ‘oh thank god’ was his next thought and with it he took a stabilizing breath on weak lungs.

He still had his head.

That was a big, BIG plus considering what had attacked him—could he say attacked? Chris supposed so when he remembered back to the swiping of the Wendigo’s claws, which were so long and razor-sharp they had practically glinted death like swords and drew so near within seconds that he had nearly felt them on his skin right then and there. The only reason he was still alive was because…

“I fell,” Chris murmured as his memories became less of a blur, and sure enough, as he looked up into the darkness above him there was the underside of the trapdoor. His eyes winced at the height. Yup. He certainly did. No wonder his body felt like it had just backflopped into a pool without the water. The drop had to be more than ten-feet high. “Ugh…” He considered calling out for Josh like before, but in consideration of the attention it drew last time, maybe not.

Everything hurt as Chris rolled onto his side, but if he took into account the very fact that he still had a life to call his the twinge in his spine was manageable. And through grit teeth he got through it, all the way to his knees, all the while listening to the leaf-like rustling of his parka emphasizing his struggle. There was a time when he used to hate the bulkiness of his jacket, especially when taking into account how much mass it added to his already unfit image, but right now feeling like a human marshmallow wasn’t so bad. It was probably the only thing that had cushioned his landing. Well, _tried_ to cushion it, at least.

Chris stifled another groan as he sat back on his heels and began fishing around on the ground for his iPhone with a few sloppy pats to the right and left. Instinct had kicked in, he could remember, and by reflex he had let it go during his plummet downward. How far it had slid though, he could only speculate. He wanted it to be close, but when nothing turned up around him he leaned out into the shadows in front of him and repeated the process. Except this time he was a little quicker; more aware of where he put his hands, and he counted his number of pats to keep his mind from straying at the feel of every rough texture, of everything hard, jagged, and chipped in between.

Needless to say, it was a waste of practicing his times tables, that was for sure, because Chris thought of every possible thing that could go wrong in the history of horror movies. And for some odd reason, even after all he had seen thus far on the mountain, his mind kept going back to tentacles. They were his nightmare fuel, if he was being completely honest in the face of fear, always depicted as so long and too… smooth?

Chris felt his heart jump with his fingers as they touched such a surface. If his brain wasn’t so quick to identify what-was-what he would have had a major breakdown, but luckily for him he immediately recognized the smooth texture as his phone case. He was practically holding the damn thing in his hands every day, it would have been an embarrassment not to distinguish it, and with too much pleasure he scooped it up and finally stood. All was well until he plodded his thumb around for the flat home button and watched as the screen lit up—cracked, he noted.

“Ah man.” Chris whined. This was a first for him, and he shook his head in disappointment as he brought up the flashlight feature.

With a halfhearted tap from a thumb that felt frostbitten, the setting was activated and with it on Chris turned to get a better look at his surroundings, only to come face to face… with another face.

“WOAH!” Chris twisted his head away sharply and clamped his eyes shut, expecting the worst. He was done for. He was going to get his nose eaten off first, like within the next five seconds, and… and… “Huh?”

When nothing happened he cracked open his eyes a millimeter and vaguely refocused his light. It was a skull, he noticed with a calmer mind. A fucking skull on a stick. The area was practically littered with them—bones.

“The literal ‘bone zone,’” Chris murmured dully, hating his own humor as he began to walk, especially when his soles rolled over what seemed like every bone around and made the sound of clattering teeth as he went. Because by then it was creepy, prompting Chris to move faster, to play into that expression of wanting to be ‘anywhere but here,’ _here_ being the dark, the cold, the mountain. Chris could go on, and was about to before he misplaced his footing and knocked into an old pile of brushwood that looked as though it had been stacked together like a miniature teepee.

Loudly, the wooden sticks broke apart on contact and clattered to the ground like bowling pins. Chris cringed at the sound they made, his shoulders nearly touching his ears. He didn’t think he could be any more unfortunate, but then the low battery alert popped up on his iPhone, reminding him that he hadn’t charged it since yesterday. And since two-percent wasn’t much to work with, he groaned in frustration. Really, he wasn’t going to get anywhere like this. He needed light if he wanted to survive, especially in consideration of his setting, which he needn’t remind himself was a mine of catacombs, pitfalls, and Wendigo, oh my. How easy it would be to lose his way and drop off a cliff to his doom. Better yet, how foolish he would be to just let it happen. To be honest, he had the resources to lessen his chances of that, only…

Chris studied his iPhone, almost in sadness. Yeah, it was going to have to be that way.

“I am so, so, sorry…” He lamented as he used what little strength the flashlight feature had left to look around for one of those sticks that had fallen with the pile earlier. There was one next to his left shoe, he saw, and knelt.

Down on one knee he stayed, and after the stick was his he turned his phone over so that the side with the battery was facing him. Then, he placed the phone down onto the ground like he was laying it to rest. The act he was about to commit felt like a sin to all geeks, but it needed to be done and he knew how to do it right because one weekend, a year or so ago, Josh and he had created some elaborate, far-fetched scenario about how they would survive if they got lost on the mountain, in the snow with only a cell phone and no reception. Somehow they ended up on the weird side of _YouTube_ and watched videos about starting fires with said-cell phone late into the early a.m.. Afterwards Josh had dared Chris to try the technique. He had even said he would give him one-hundred bucks as a reward with that goofy smile of his, but Chris chickened out, of course. He loved his phone too much. But right now, it was do or die… so Chris did.

With a heavy sigh, Chris positioned the stick above his phone, lifted the sharp wood up, and brought it down with wincing eyes. He heard the contact, and kept at it with hopes of piercing the battery inside, since the lithium was what actually started the fire—the contact with the air, or something. He wasn’t too sure, actually. Though after a few more tries there was a deep crack and after a few seconds there immediately came a spark, which was when Chris tried to capture it on the end of his stick. It took a few tries, misses, and curses, but eventually the tip of the stick caught flame like he was hoping it would.

Thank you, internet.

“And then… there was light,” Chris announced to the all-enveloping silence as he stood, which immediately made him feel silly and small. Alone. His shoulders dropped.

God, where _was_ Josh? Chris caved in wonder. He could really use him about now. After all, he was down here for said-idiot. The least Josh could do was show himself. And maybe afterwards the exit could show itself, too. Because, damn. Chris was ready to leave, he really was, but he would never forgive himself for ditching Josh. Again. That would be like a slap to the other cheek. So, no. He would search these mines to the end of his days—or at least until his jerry-rigged torch got snuffed.

A sudden cross breeze between tunnels licked the end of Chris’ stick, upsetting the soft glow of whatever flames were burning. They flickered and Chris gulped. It wouldn’t take long for the blaze to go out, so he needed to stop lingering and get moving. With that in mind, Chris went forth into the unknown, and for a time it was tunnel, after tunnel, after tunnel. He almost didn’t think the repetition would ever end, but eventually he reached an area of the cave that had an opening in the ceiling.

With a hand shielding his eyes, Chris looked up into the only ray of sunlight, the dawn of a new day. The climb was steep, too steep for him to even imagine attempting a try. He wasn’t the athletic-type, for starters. And then there was the pain in his chest due to his ribs, his bummed ankle. Yeah. Another way sounded fine by him. He would take safe over fast any day. That, and the sunlight was giving him a little hope, because he remembered the old man saying that the Wendigo only hunted at night… so was he in the clear?

The crumbling of sediments had Chris doubtful, and straight away his mind quickly flashed back to the Wendigo that had snuck up on him when finding the trapdoor. He expected to see the same sight, too—the huddle, the pounce, but this time he was prepared-ish? The stick wasn’t much of a weapon, but the flame on the tip was, or at least that was the expectation, and without wasting another second he spun around at the ready, torch held high and set to smack whatever came at him.

But then he saw what actually made the noise, which had him dropping everything: his guard and the stick. The fire on the tip sizzled out in a puddle of mushy snow by his feet.

“Oh my god!” Chris cried at the familiar pair of silly overalls hunched and sitting in the darkest corner of the cave. “Josh! There you are!”

He knew the voice earlier had to have been Josh. Screw any doubt after that. He just knew it. Though Josh, he didn’t know of the dangers residing within the mines. Chris would have to bring him up to speed once they were as far away from here as possible.

“Bro,” Chris approached Josh naturally, straying from the light. “Don’t freak out, but there’s like, some seriously messed up shit going on up here--on the mountain! I’ll explain everything later, but right now we gotta go!” He made a grab for his best friend’s shoulder, but to his surprise, he was shoved away the second his hand made any sort of contact. Consequently, he lost his balance and fell on his side, the wind knocked straight from his lungs. “S-Shit. What the hell, man?!” Chris blurted out, his voice high-strung with alarm. “Why’d you do that?” He looked up at Josh, rather Josh’s back.

Josh twitched like there was a fly hovering around his head, and when he turned a shoulder back ever so slowly, Chris cringed.

“Dude… What, what happened to your face?”

“What?” Josh uttered. One of his eyes appeared to be blind—the right one. The iris was filming over with a milky color of ice blue. Then there was the left side of his lip, which looked raw and irritated. Had he bitten it? Hit it on a rock? “Is… is there something on it?” Josh padded around his face, then smiled. “Well, there’s something on yours, too, Cochise!” He laughed, a little too happily, as he skulked forward to poke at Chris. “Like your nose,” pinch, “and, and, and your eyes--”

Chris waved Josh off. “Dude, I’m SERIOUS!” He reached out to touch his best friend’s cheek. Josh was so cold, but then again so was he. God, did he really hope that Josh’s eye wasn’t messed up because of him. In the shed, hitting Josh with that loose plank of wood, that was an accident motivated by hurt feelings and misunderstood loyalty. Neither of them had been thinking clearly. “Y-Your lip,” Chris started again.

“Wha--what about my lip? It’s kinda numb. Can’t feel it,” Josh mumbled, then shook his head in interruption. “Chris, you…” His eyes drooped, unfocused. “You smell REALLY good, man.”

“Um, okay? Where did that come from?” Chris asked, knowing for a fact that he didn’t smell like much besides sweat and dirt. The fragrance of the spray-on deodorant he had used to melt the lodge’s frozen lock had already faded hours ago.

“And your heart.”

Chris blinked. “What?”

“Your, your heart.” Josh said again. “It’s beating so fast. SO, fast… Pat, pat, pat.” He made the sound with his mouth. “I can hear it. Boy, can I!” He exclaimed as he pushed himself at Chris. Chris squirmed on his elbows as he was pinned, soon to put one hand out to prevent Josh from breathing down his neck. “Let me have a taste… Huh, Cochise? Just a taste? Just, just a nibble, alright? It’ll be quick. I promise. You trust me, right? Trust me. OKAY? Cochise.” A laugh. “Goat cheese.”

“Josh! Shit--Josh!” Chris was so confused, also flat on his back now. “What the hell, man! STOP!”

With his left forearm pinned under Josh’s chin, Chris tried to keep him at bay. From strangling him, or… He turned his head to the side when the rancid scent of death and blood whisked his face in another questioningly playful bite. Josh was off his rocker. He was laughing desperately and pushing all his weight down on Chris.

“Ouch! Y-You’re hurting me. Josh! You’re--” Chris squirmed uncomfortably, then bucked his hips up once. His ribs really hated him for it. Josh, on the other hand, loved it. His ‘whoop’ was a clear indication of that. “Come on, man. Get off!” Chris thrust himself up again. “JOSH!”

Subconsciously, Chris found himself fishing his free arm around for something he could use in his defense. The underbelly of his parka sleeve scraped loudly against the rocky terrain as he searched, but as he looked into his attacker’s face and saw his best friend staring back, his strength to retaliate wavered like a candle caught in a draft. What the hell was he doing—Chris didn’t pick up the rock his fingers had found—and what the hell was wrong with Josh?

“Your meds--you… you’re not thinking straight!” Chris started, trying to be supportive. He had always been there for Josh. Even now, he still was. “I’m, I’m your FRIEND, man! Rough patches, they, they happen. And what happens, happens. But we’ll get through it, okay? Just… Just tell me where they are and, and I’ll go get them!” The pills, somehow. “We BOTH can--together--just you and me, bro!”

“Bro, bro, brobro, BRO!” Josh mocked, waving his head back and forth. “ _Come on and take your medicine!_ Jesus Christ, man. You don’t know how sick and, and tired I am of hearing that shit from you people. Sam. Mike. Ashley--YOU!”

“H-Hey. This… This is me, Josh! ME! Chris?! CHRIS--from the Third Grade! We’ve known each other for, how long? Years, right?” That had to account for something. “Jo--WHA--!” Chris gasped when he felt something cold slither up his stomach, and as he looked down he saw that Josh had stuck an arm up his shirt and jacket. At first it tickled… but then it hurt. For good reason.

Josh was digging his nails into Chris’ skin, just under Chris’ ribcage, and the weirdest part was that he sounded like he was growling.

“JOSH!” Chris begged as he felt the sting and burn of his skin peeling. Did Josh have like, nails as fucking long as the _Witch of the West_ or something?

“Oh, Chris. Chris, ChrisChrisChris.” Josh chuckled, his voice muffled with malice. It looked so strange to see his lips trying to work around his swollen gums. “You left me for dead. You… You hit me, Chris. You hit me. Hit me. HIT me. HIT ME--”

Josh didn’t stop, and eventually his words went from accusing to commanding, and at one point it seemed as though Josh was asking for Chris to do just that—hit him—so on a whim Chris closed his eyes and curled one fist. He struck, pathetically hitting Josh in the cheek, yet somehow ended up cracking a knuckle because of it. Boom. Butterfly effect.

“Ow… ah, shit,” Chris cursed.

“Chris?” Josh murmured, his eyes rolling faintly and his mouth hanging open. It was like the strike, no matter how soft, was just enough to knock him back to his senses.

“Yeah. Hey… man.” Chris grit past his pain. He didn’t know what to think about what had just happened, but decided to roll with whatever ball was in his court. Humor. “I leave you alone for like, what, a few hours and you’ve already gone _Lord of the Flies_ on me? Jesus, ff… If we ever become castaways and get stranded on some godforsaken island, just you and me, PLEASE remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Chris.” Josh gagged, like he just recognized who was in front of him and what he had done. “Oh. Oh, man.” He looked down at his hands. Five of his nails had Chris’ skin and blood under them, and he started shaking his head. “I’m… I am SO sorry.” He was so choked up. “I, I dunno what, what came over me.”

“How long has it been since you stopped taking your meds?” Chris cringed as he pulled himself back onto his elbows. It didn’t even occur to him to feel awkward that Josh was between his legs.

“What?” Josh’s eyes darted low. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He avoided Chris’ stare. “I… I’m fine.”

“Uh, dude, REALLY?” Chris barely laughed. “I’ve seen you when you’re off your meds, man.” Never this badly, though. “One minute you’re a-a turtle with its head in its shell and then BAM, you’re fucking _Rambo_! Remember that one time--in class--Eighth Grade? You punched Ernie Jacobs’ lights out all because he refused to return your damn pencil. You know, the one with the _Red Power Ranger_ on it? Which was mine, by the way, which you kept. But, ya know--didn’t feel my fist on your face.”

“…You remember that?”

“You were a real fucking _Dinozord_ , man.” Chris wouldn’t lie. “Scarred for life, bro.”

Josh nodded jerkily, then snorted like it was all sinking back in, the memories. “H-Here.” He leaned in to help Chris up. Or claw him again—Chris wasn’t too sure and hated the fact that he flinched at the gesture. Even Josh seemed to sense the hesitance, but even so he still kept his hand offered. Unable to resist, Chris gave a pained smile at the sight and reached out. His hand was barely within Josh’s before Josh cried out like he’d just been burned by fire. Then again and again. Alongside the angry yowls, there was also a swooshing sound. Whoosh, whoosh, it went.

_“Ya like that? Huh? Do ya? You crazy… fucked up… son-of-a bitch! That hot enough for you? Hah? HAH?!”_

There was a wild look in Josh’s eyes as he scampered away from Chris, taking any warmth with him. The ground of the cave was ice cold, but Chris was more chilled to the bone at the sight of his best friend cowering in the shadows like something from the _Exorcist_ —possessed, even. And then Josh screeched.

It was a high-pitched sound that rattled Chris’ eardrums. He grabbed at his ears, but when that wasn’t enough to block out the sound he turned onto his side in a half-assed attempt to crawl away from it. Then something cold brushed the back of his neck. Chris flailed. Whatever it was had a hold on the furry collar of his parka and was dragging him away from Josh and back into the sunlight. Once released, Chris flopped onto his back with an ‘oof’ and when he looked up he saw a familiar pair of blue, old boys jeans above him; equally a face that made his heartbeat, weirdly enough, pick up speed in his chest.

“Mike?” Chris exclaimed just as the class president swashed his own jerry-rigged torch in front of both of them like he was warding off evil.

“Sorry I kept you waiting!” Mike said like he was a hero in some action-adventure film who had just entered the scene and saved the day. Chris had to blink a couple times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, though when Mike looked down at him with a rushed look, it was obvious he wasn’t. “You just gonna lounge around all day, or what? Get up, asshat! I’m getting you the FUCK outta here!”

ƸӜƷ


	5. Home Truth

_“Let go--let go of me! Mike! Goddammit, stop! Will you just… lay off already?!”_

Chris was yelling, and fighting, and squirming, and stumbling. He had been from the very minute Mike dragged them both out of the mines, and many times in-between Mike almost forgot that he was pulling a friend along behind him, not a mule. This was the last straw, though. His patience and six frozen fingers, excluding his thumbs, had had enough, so he gave up. He let Chris have his way. Chivalry was out-dated anyway, and so Michael Munroe released Chris and opened the double doors of the Sanatorium in a heated shove, walking a few paces ahead.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Mike groused over his shoulder before pitching his burned-out torch to the side, seeing as it had lived up to its use.

“My… My PROBLEM? Really?” Chris shrugged his jacket straight in newfound freedom. He stubbornly stopped and flung one whole arm back towards wherever they had just come. It was bright out, daytime, so he felt that they could dedicate a minute to this—speaking and not just running. “We just fucking left Josh back there!”

Chris looked on with very little patience as the class president ignored him and took more of an interest in checking out their surroundings. The descending stone steps leading to the sanatorium’s courtyard. The big wishing-pool like fountain established there. The steel fencing and brick hedging separating them from the natural world of snow and trees.

“Hellooo. Josh?” Chris reminded as Mike continued to evade him. Chris didn’t think he could make his arm any longer when he motioned again, this time stalking after Mike. “Back there?”

Mike sighed loudly and irritably, almost pulling at his hair. “Hey, I REALLY hate to be the bearer of bad news, man, but Josh,” he turned to face Chris with his own point, but eventually its strength dwindled and his hand dropped to his side, “is no longer Josh.” Mike finished, his voice low.

“What?” Chris blinked. “What are you talking about?” He squinted and didn’t miss how Mike did that thing he always did: a shrug and look-anywhere-but-the-eyes because he didn’t want confrontation kind of thing. “Mike.” Chris said directly. “What do you mean by that?”

“Look…” Mike began. “Back at the Sanatorium I found these old documents and folders, alright? Inside there were these pictures. They were of this, this miner. Billy, something. He, uh, he had a distinct mark on his face. A scar. Right here.” Mike motioned to his own face.

“Is there a point in there somewhere?” Chris asked, confused.

“He had turned into a Wendigo. And I wouldn’t have been able to identify him otherwise if I hadn’t seen his scar. It took, like, a matter of days for him to fully transform. Josh, he… It’s faster, but same thing’s happening to him, man.” Mike shrugged again. “Sorry.”

“No. No way. He… Josh, he…” Chris shook his head. “He was FINE, Michael! He’s just off his meds!”

“Oh, my, GOD!” Mike shrieked to the sky like he couldn’t believe Chris’ thickness. “He was TURNING, Christopher!”

For once in his life, Michael Munroe didn’t look like he was trying to bullshit anyone.

“No.” Chris let his eyes fall as he shook his head again. “No, I refuse to accept that.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” Mike put one hand on his hip, then used the other to brusquely motion for Chris to ‘hand it over.’ When Chris didn’t seem to understand the gesture, Mike sighed. “Dude, gimme your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“I didn’t bring mine with me on the trip, okay? Battery wasn’t holding a charge, so I’d ordered a new one online. Jessica. She, uh, she brought hers with her, but…” Mike paused solemnly, lost in painful memory. “She had it with her when she was taken. Don’t know where it might have dropped… But look. Look. See those?” He tried to sound optimistic as he pointed off the mountain. From where they were standing they could just barely make out hydro lines erected in the distance. “With those there we might be able to get a signal. One bar, maybe, but we won’t know until we try, right?” Mike put his hand out again. “Chris. Phone.” Full stop.

“Uhh,” Chris didn’t feel the need to go into detail about how he went _Man vs. Wild_ and used his battery to start a fire. “I kind of… broke mine down in the mines?” He abridged.

“What?” There was a dramatic pause. “Wow.” Mike arched one brow. “Wasn’t that thing, like, your link to society?”

“You make me sound like a recluse, but yeah…” Chris said. “It was a quiet funeral.”

“R.I.P. phone.” Mike murmured. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, you know what? It doesn’t matter.” He glanced around at where they were, then up towards the morning sky as if to get a better sense of direction. The sun was just beginning to peek over the tops of what used to be a dense forest. They could follow it, but they needed west. “Here we go.” Mike said on breath as he walked over to the area of fencing he had first used to get into the sanatorium. He knelt and interlocked whatever fingers he could into a makeshift holster. “Okay, let’s go.” He nodded for Chris to come.

“Really?” Chris made a face and shifted, putting both his hands pocket-deep into his parka. He nodded down at his ankle.

Mike made an ‘o’ face. He did vaguely remember Chris limping during their dash to the safe room. “But it’s only six-feet.”

“Six-feet too high.”

“Okay. Fine. FINE. God, do I have to do everything?”

The last part was a whisper, but even so Mike got up, brushed at the snow powdering his knees, and started to find footholds in the brick. God. Did he make the climb look easy. Chris was now wishing he had paid more attention in climbing class.

“Here.” Mike called down after steadying his balance like a squirrel on a wire. He put a hand out. “I’ll pull you up.”

“I…” Fuck it. Chris tentatively accepted it and let out a big ‘oof’ as Mike basically lugged him the distance on strength alone; no help from him. “Oh my god. Don’t let me fall. Please don’t let me fall.” Chris nearly whined. His body wouldn’t forgive him.

“I will if you don’t stop rocking me.” Mike said. He didn’t take Chris as someone who was that afraid of heights, but after tonight he guessed everyone had a new fear under their pillow. He sure did. “Last step, okay?”

“Okay, sorry. Sorry.” Chris let Mike go so that they could find their own balance separately.

Mike nodded, then went down on the flip side first. He landed with a hearty crunch amid the snowfall there. Chris shivered and tried not to totter off the edge of the fence as he waited for Mike to move out of the way so that he could also come down, but instead Mike turned around and opened his arms up to Chris with a little bounce to his step. He looked like a human Y.

“Oh…kaaay?” Chris furrowed his brow. “Y…M.C.A.?”

“What?” Mike looked askance. “No. Dude, I’m going to catch you. So don’t make this anymore awkward than it has to be and get your ass down here.” He motioned where he stood with a nod. “Please?” He blinked up.

“What?” Chris leaned back slightly but not enough to throw his balance off-center. He was a little taken by surprise. “Hell no. I’m not jumping into your arms, Mike.”

“Chris.” Mike rolled his eyes. “Not the time for being picky-and-choosy, man.”

“Fine. FINE. Alright. But I’m still not jumping. You can be my stepladder.”

“Whatever works.”

Chris sighed, then proceeded to ease down onto his butt, turn around, and he ease onto his stomach. His legs almost wanted to flail as he lowered himself from the hedge and his grip slipped, but Mike managed to grab hold of his feet and keep them steady. “Hey. Hey. Watch the ankle.” Chris grit when he felt Mike squeeze the injury.

“Sorry.” He heard Mike say, and was surprised at the care the class president used thereafter. Mike’s hands were so warm despite their tatter and exposure to the cold. Chris almost didn’t want them to let go, but then Mike grunted in that impatient attitude of his that Chris found insufferable. “I don’t have all day, you know?”

“I know.” Chris said. “But the height is high and my grip is sucky,” and his imagination was already playing the fall. “And--”

“Wait?” Mike went completely still below him. Chris felt his human stepladder shift a look behind them. “Did you hear that?”

Chris shook his head with a bitter laugh. “No. No, nono. Don’t even try that, Mike.” He wasn’t going to fall for that. It was the oldest trick in the book. No. There was just no way he was being rushed.

“No, I’m serious.” Mike said, and a rustle in one of the nearby bushes echoed his claim. Chris was totally freaked now.

“Oh. Oh shit. Put me down. Put me down!”

“Chris!” Mike staggered as Chris began struggling. “Stop, stop moving. I can’t--”

Mike lost his grip, sending both he and Chris tumbling into the snow. There was a surprised ‘ahh’ from Chris and an apologetic ‘fuck’ from Mike, as well as a loud snarl and the snapping of teeth. Chris was the first to lift his head, though the slowest to regain his composure, and as he tried to focus past the crooked glasses on his face he saw…

“OH, F--” Chris immediately shuffled to his knees, ignoring the pain in his ribs.

A wolf. It was a fucking 60kg, Northwestern—

“Wolfie?” Mike laughed beside him, also on his knees. He got up. “Buddy, I was looking everywhere for you! Had me worried there for a minute--hey. Hey. It’s me.” He held out a hand. The Northwestern Wolf came over and sniffed it, recognizing his scent with a friendly whine and wagged tail. “See? There’s a good boy. Where’d you go, huh?” He scratched behind an ear and the wolf looked even more pleased.

Chris, on the other hand, looked still in shock. “Whoa… Uh. That, that’s, a…”

“Oh, that’s right! You two haven’t met.” Mike looked between his friend and the wolf. “Chris, this is Wolfie. He helped me find my through the Sanatorium. Isn’t that right? Huh? Yeah, der’s a gud boi.” He continued the scratching until the wolf moved its head away.

“Wolfie?” Chris repeated after Mike. How unoriginal. But at the same time, it fit.

“Chris, is… is that some green I see in your eyes?” Mike said like a braggart. “Am I like the motherfucking Wolf Man, or what?”

“Yeah, total Wolf Man.” Chris rolled his eyes. He then pushed himself to his feet, joining Mike in a stand before feeling the—what felt like massive—cuts inflicted by Josh’s nails reopen with his attempted stretch. He winced, low and deep enough that Mike was now staring at him with a look of concern.

“What?” Mike motioned at Chris. “Why’d you do that?”

“Nothing.” Chris folded one arm across his stomach as if he thought it was enough to stop the sting of pain. He pressed it tighter into his body when it didn’t. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh, THAT, wasn’t nothing. What’d Josh do to you, huh?” Mike took a step towards Chris. “Lemme see.”

“I’m telling you, it’s no big deal. Josh just, he scratched me and…”

“He WHAT?”

Chris wasn’t strong enough to fight off Mike’s reaching and nagging hands. In a way, he was also tag-teamed when Wolfie growled at him when he tried to move away, and not wanting to be bitten Chris froze in place and allowed the class president to inspect the wound. Mike had to dig through three layers of clothes to find it, unzip a parka, part an undershirt, and roll up a shirt, and Chris bit back a hiss when he felt the latter fabric pull away from whatever soft scabs had formed in an attempt to heal.

“Well… How bad is it?” Chris was afraid to look.

Mike swallowed hard. “It’s uh… Well, it’s… Whoa, okay. It’s definitely gonna need stitches.” Mike let go of Chris’ shirt and quickly turned away.

“What? Seriously?” Chris pulled his shirt back up, though immediately cursed his curiosity. “Oh… oh man.”

“Yeah. You can say goodbye to your future modeling career. But hey, I mean… At least it’s not a BITE, right?”

“Uhh. Why does that matter?” Chris asked as he hastily fixed his shirts and re-zipped his parka, not wanting the winter weather to lick at his skin and turn his nipples hard any longer. That would be embarrassing, no matter how natural.

“Wendigo bites are probably like, werewolf bites.” Mike guessed. “Contagious. It always happens in the movies, right? Boy gets bitten. Boy turns.”

“Oh my god.” Chris felt faint and inwardly appreciated how Mike looked about ready to catch him if he fell. He groaned and bent at the waist to grip at his thighs. “Do… Do you think… Am I going to TURN into one of them?!” He blurted as he straightened upright, like he was ready to run. Anywhere. Mostly from this conversation.

“Dunno, man.” Mike said, though there wasn’t much support behind his conviction. “Haven’t really thought about it. But hey… Don’t worry about it. When we reconnect with Ash and Sam, we can figure something out,” was the assurance, but Chris wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring off in space.

“The old man’s journal.” Chris eventually murmured.

“What--”

“What about the old man’s journal?!” Chris raised his voice. His outburst was so abrupt that Mike looked like he nearly had the blue scared out of his jeans. “It, it was on the desk, in the basement! It must have had things written in it, right? First-based accounts or recordings about the Wendigo? Ash was reading it before we ran after you… Oh god, Ash.”

“She’s safe--Sam, too.” Mike filled in as if reading the panic on Chris’ face. “They doubled back to the lodge after splitting ways with you. But the journal…”

“You don’t have it? What about Sam or Ash?” Chris could remember Sam tossing it down onto the table in the safe room to commence the ‘catch up with Mike’ plan, but didn’t know if anyone had picked it up since returning.

Mike’s expression, however, told him ‘no.’

“Dude, then we gotta go back for it!” Chris walked past Mike, who followed him with his body. Wolfie stepped out of the way. “Maybe the old man wrote something down… something that can tell us about bites or scratches. And, and… Mike?” When Chris didn’t hear a follow up he spun around to find Mike with his hand raised, like he was in a classroom and needed permission to speak. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna need a cremation jar if you wanna go do that. The lodge is gone, man. It went up. Sky-high.”

“So, so what? It was just left there? The one thing that had answers about these things--GONE?! As in FWOOSH?!” Chris made the motion with his arms like an umpire calling ‘safe.’

“Gee. I-I’m sorry, Chris.” Mike couldn’t speak for the girls, but, “While I was thinking about getting everyone off this fucking mountain--ALIVE, I might add--I TOTALLY forgot to grab the old man’s survival guide of 101 facts on EVERYTHING you need to know about the Wendigo. First edition.” He faked a smile. “My mistake. Maybe next time?”

“Alright,” Chris waved Mike off. “I get it…”

“Yeah.” Mike would take that as an apology. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

“For?” Chris deadpanned, only to realize that he hadn’t expressed any gratitude towards Mike for saving his life. Though at the same time it felt ruined. “Oh, that. Thanks… I know you didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did.” Mike gave him a genuine smile this time. “Promised I’d get everyone off the mountain, didn’t I? Besides, I didn’t want my life turning into some fucking Schrödinger’s cat scenario, you know?”

“Uhh, no?” Chris didn’t.

“I had to come and see for myself what became of you. I’d found Hannah’s journal with Sam in the mines. It had all these notes scrawled in it, regrets. She’d been alive for like, days, weeks. She didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want to become what she did, man. And while we were up here, she was starving down there… I guess I just kept thinking about it. That maybe, we could’ve saved her--that _I_ could’ve saved her.” Mike scoffed. “I know how that sounds…”

“Uhh.” Chris didn’t have to think too hard. “Like Mikey-boy’s got a hero complex?”

“Is it that obvious?” Mike cringed.

“Just a bit.” Chris nodded.

Wolfie whined and Mike seemed to take the hint. “Duly noted.”

“Right. Sooo…” Chris motioned around to all the snow and frost-eaten trees. “What’s the plan, Lone Ranger? We walking off this mountain? Shoulder to shoulder? Hand and hand? You gonna go all ‘No Man Left Behind’ and carry my sorry ass down if I lose consciousness from blood loss? Tell me, ‘the only thing you gotta do, Christopher, is not DIE on me.’ Unless--you know--you can think of a cooler line.”

“Ooor we could just use the Cable Car?” Mike suggested as he presented the key in a jingle. Chris paused.

“Then there’s that.” He said slowly. “How’d you get it?” He could have sworn that Josh still had it. How much had he missed after passing out in the tunnels?

“Long story,” Mike said.

“Okay,” Chris took that as ‘don’t ask.’ He swept his arm forward instead. “High-Ho Silver?”

“That’s the spirit!” Mike whacked Chris on the back and made sure Chris recovered from it before they started out on the same foot, following the Northwestern Wolf down no trail in particular. For better or for worse, they made their own. “We’ll be down the mountain before you know it.”

“Five hours later.” Chris mumbled.

“Dude, just… don’t jinx it! OKAY?”

ƸӜƷ

**Author's Note:**

> We can't wait to get these boys off the mountain and back home... that's when sh*t starts to get really real. Thanks for reading!


End file.
